


Commodity Fetishism

by Eggpants



Category: Manifest der Kommunistischen Partei | The Communist Manifesto - Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels, Marx - Fandom, communism - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggpants/pseuds/Eggpants
Summary: The laborer bakes a cake for his bourgeois master
Relationships: Bourgeois/Proletarian, Wage Labour/Capital
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Commodity Fetishism

The gentle laborer cracked an egg into a bowl. He was going to bake a cake to celebrate his bourgeois' lover's big success; he was the owner of a linen manufacturing company, and he had recently invested in a new technology which would considerably speed up production. Thanks to this, his profits had reached a record high, but unfortunately the proletarian was now out of a job. The free market had decided it no longer had use for his labour, so now he had been pushed into the less profitable industry of baking for the bourgeoisie.

"When will the cake be ready, dear? I'm growing tired of waiting…"

"Soon," he responded, mixing the batter.

"But I am hungry now."

"Well, so am I, but you'll have to be patient." He poured the batter into the cake pan.

“You know, I hear that boy Thomas down the street can produce twice the amount of cake in the same amount of time,” he said, lighting his cigar and leaning back in the chair. “So tell me why I should bother with you.”

A pang of guilt rippled through the poor worker as he bent over to put the cake in the oven. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better!”

“That’s the spirit. Hard work is what will liberate you.”

“Is that how you got so rich?” asked the proletarian, sitting down at the chair opposite the capitalist’s.

“Yes, yes, of course it is. The great thing about this country is that anybody can climb the ladder with enough hard work and determination.”

There was a period of silence between the two of them. The man of the house picked up his copy of Ayn Rand’s  _ Fountainhead _ and began flicking through the pages. The other man twiddled his thumbs for a while, unsure of how to say what he needed to say.

“You know, I’ve been talking to my friends lately, and…”

The factory owner looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You have friends?”

“Just a couple of old coworkers from the linen factory, and some others...:”

“Well, go on, what did they say?”

“They said… They said you’re kind of toxic.”

The capitalist set down the book and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“They said you’re exploiting me…a-and that I should-”

He stood up, towering over the poor laborer. “Don’t listen to them! They are trying to sabotage you!”

“W-what do you mean?” His voice quivered as if he was some scared little child.

“What we have is special. It’s not perfect, but I need you. And I’ve given you everything you have.”

“But I work so hard, a-and I’ll never be as rich as you,” he wiped away tears. “All you do is sit on the couch all day and read the papers while-”

The much taller man grabbed his wrist. “Silence boy! You don’t know what you’re talking about! My work is of far greater importance than yours.”

“Let go of me!” he tried to wriggle free, but it was no use.

“If this isn’t working for you, then leave. You’re nothing to me but a commodity; I can replace you at any time. But need I remind you that without me, you would starve out on the streets.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He was now pinned against the wall. 

The millionaire leaned in. “And I don’t want you to see those little socialist friends of yours ever again.” The worker felt the hot breath on his neck, and it sent shivers down his spine. “O-okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have listened to them. They were wrong!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He pressed his lips against his captive’s, and they kissed. “See, I knew you loved me.”

“Of c-course I love you.”

“What do you want right now?”

“I want you,” he whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I want you!” And in this moment, it was true. He knew it was wrong, but he needed to indulge his fantasies. He knew it was bad for him, but the tightness in his pants didn't. 

"Well I want cake, and you still haven't given it to me." He pulled away with a smug satisfaction.

"P-please," the proletarian begged, his eyes betraying the disappointment of a child who had been denied a lollipop at the store.

"I suppose you'll just have to be patient." With that, he walked back to his chair and began reading his book again, leaving the labourer high and dry as always.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently read Wage Labour & Capital, and it seemed like there was so much untapped potential for the characters


End file.
